


Pavor Nocturnus

by Quinny_555



Series: Carry On My Prodigal Son [9]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019), Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malcolm Bright is doing his best, Night Terrors, Sam Winchester Gets a Hug, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Tired Malcolm Bright, worried team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_555/pseuds/Quinny_555
Summary: “Sam?” He inquired softly. No response. He brought his hand up and his restraints rattled quietly. Sam flinched at the sound it made. Malcolm cursed under his breath and tried to release himself as quietly as possible.OrIn which Sam and Malcolm have a rough night.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Sam Winchester
Series: Carry On My Prodigal Son [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636342
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	Pavor Nocturnus

**Author's Note:**

> For DestielIsOTP :)

Malcolm groaned quietly and rolled over, rubbing his face. He opened his bleary eyes, searching for his partner, who had apparently disappeared. He sat up and glanced around the apartment. He paused when he saw Sam standing next to the breakfast bar with his back to Malcolm. He frowned. 

“Sam?” He inquired softly. No response. He brought his hand up and the restraints stopped the motion. Sam flinched at the sound it made. Malcolm cursed under his breath and tried to release himself as quietly as possible. 

He stood and walked to Sam, footsteps silent. Once he got closer he could see that Sam was shaking, fine tremors racking his large frame. His lips moved but no sound came out. Malcolm shivered. 

“Sam?” He tried again, hoping in vain that Sam just hadn't heard him the first time. He wanted Sam to turn to him, that cute surprised expression on his face, and ask what he was doing up. The cold laugh that greeted him instead caught him off guard. “What’s wrong?” 

“Was any of it real?” Sam murmured without turning to face Malcolm. 

“W-wait, what?” Malcolm managed, frowning. What was Sam talking about? 

“I know what you're doing.” If he had been doing something, Malcolm certainly would have been worried. Both fortunately and unfortunately, he had not and still had no idea what was going on. 

“Sam, I don't know what you think it is I’m doing, but I'm sorry. Look, could we just go to bed and talk about this in the morning?” Sam’s face turned in Malcolm’s direction, pale moonlight illuminating his hostile expression and empty, distant eyes. 

“I _know_ what you're _doing_.” 

“I don't-” Sam abruptly released the counter that he had been gripping like a vice and faced Malcolm completely. He loomed over the shorter man and took a step forward, forcing Malcolm to take one back. 

“Is this what you get off on, Lucifer?” Malcolm paled. “You think that you can just- just make me a new life so that you can rip it away? How long, huh? Was any of it real? Is-is _he_ real? Or did you make me the most perfect man I could ask for just so you could wear his face while you-” he cut himself off, sob shaking his shoulders as his hands came up to cover his face. 

Malcolm was frozen. All he could do was stare, torn between wanting to comfort Sam and wanting to hunt down and completely destroy the Devil. Instead, he just stood there, unable to move for a reason he couldn't name. He finally got himself under control, taking a shuddering breath. He slowly reached up to cup Sam’s face, at a loss for what else to do. He wasn't surprised when Sam flinched, but it still hurt. 

“Sam, I don't- I don't know what to say other than I’m _real._ I can't really prove it to you, and I’m sure that my cold hands aren't helping, but…” He trailed off. Sam’s eyes snapped to something behind Malcolm. Malcolm braved a quick glance over his shoulder to find nothing there. Sam’s eyes widened. 

“Don't,” he whispered. Malcolm put his hands up. 

“I’m not going to do anything.” Sam shook his head. 

“Please don't hurt him.” Malcolm felt like he had been punched. Shit. Sam was definitely hallucinating. Sam took a stumbling step away, backing himself against the breakfast bar. Malcolm stayed as still as possible, trying not to spook him. 

“Sam, we’re the only ones here. Please, you're safe, I’m safe, we’re okay, I promise. There’s no one here, it’s okay. I’m real and so are you, we’re alright.” He had no idea what he was saying. It seemed to be working, as Sam’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his eyes remained foggy. 

“Mal-” he sounded confused. “Wha- NO!” He grabbed something off of the counter behind him, swinging blindly. Malcolm kept his hands up, hissing as whatever Sam had grabbed sliced into his forearm. He leaped forward, expecting Sam to fight him. Instead, he backed away, eyes widening as he tossed the piece of glass he had been clutching. 

_Malcolm looked down at the glass he had dropped on the floor and sighed. He knew that he’d never replaced that trash bag he took out earlier. Instead of getting a new one he simply piled the broken shards on the counter, deciding that he would deal with it in the morning._ He wanted to slap himself at the realization. He should have just gotten another trash bag and thrown out the glass.

“Sam-” 

“I'm so sorry,” Sam managed, looking horrified. “I didn't mean to- oh god, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, but I need to take a look at your hand,” Malcolm insisted. Sam shook his head. 

“No, I don't want to hurt you. I can- I can take care of it. I’m so sorry.” Malcolm sighed. 

“Please,” he murmured, his pleading gaze directed at Sam. Sam worried at his lip, practically shredding the skin. Eventually, he nodded. Malcolm’s shoulders slumped in relief. He reached his hand out and Sam reluctantly took it with his uninjured hand. Malcolm led him to the bathroom. 

“I’m turning on the lights,” he warned Sam before he did so. He then sat Sam down on the toilet and reached under the sink for the first aid kit. The blood was dripping out of Sam’s palm and onto the floor. He couldn't have cared less. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asked. Malcolm knew that blood was soaking into his sleeve, but the fabric was dark. Besides, the cut definitely wasn't big enough to require immediate attention. 

“I’m fine.” He got to work without elaborating further. He wiped away the blood and disinfected the cut. “This is gonna need stitches.” He winced in sympathy. Sam nodded solemnly. They were both silent as he worked. While he had applied a numbing agent before he started, he knew that it was never completely effective. Despite that, it looked like Sam didn't feel the stitches at all. Malcolm briefly wondered how shot Sam’s pain threshold was. He knew that his wasn't exactly low, but Sam’s… well, it was honestly a little scary. He stopped that train of thought before it could really get going. 

“Mal?” Malcolm’s eyes immediately snapped to Sam’s face. He looked exhausted and way older than anyone his age should. 

“Yes, love?” Sam managed a small smile at that. 

“Could you- could you just tell me that you're…” he clenched his fist. “Real? And- and that you're okay, because I’m still- it’s not-” Sam huffed, clearly frustrated with himself. 

“Of course,” Malcolm murmured. “I’m here, and I’m definitely okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m as real as I am cute.” He winked and was relieved when Sam chuckled. “I’m here and I love you. We’re gonna fix you up, and then we can do something to distract you, if you want. Or we could talk about it, or we could try and go back to sleep. Whatever you think is best, we’ll do that. I promise.” He wiped the stitches off before disinfecting them again. He gently turned Sam’s hand over and kissed it. 

“Thank you.” Malcolm smiled and pulled out the bandages, wrapping his palm. 

“Of course, love. I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't ruin my hard work.” He hit Sam with his puppy dog eyes. Sam smiled and nodded. 

“Yeah, okay. I'll try.” That was good enough for Malcolm. He stood and held a hand out to Sam, who froze. “What’s that?” _Shit._

“What?” Malcolm asked, trying to sound oblivious as he pulled his arm away. Sam grabbed his wrist and pulled it closer to him. 

“I hurt you.” Sam looked devastated. 

“Oh, I didn't notice,” Malcolm bluffed. Sam turned sad eyes on him. 

“I know you did. Just- just let me-” He reached for the first aid kit. 

“Sam, I can take care of it.” Sam shook his head. 

“No, I have to- just. Please. I need this.” Malcolm knew he couldn't hold out when Sam got like this. He sighed and reluctantly traded places with Sam. 

“It doesn't need stitches,” Malcolm said.

“I'll be the judge of that,” Sam huffed. Malcolm stayed quiet until Dr. Sam finished patching up the cut. Once he was satisfied he stood, offering his hand to Malcolm. 

“Thank you, Sam.” He reached a cautious hand towards Sam. When his boyfriend didn't react adversely he brushed his hair behind his ear. 

He let Sam pick where they went once they left the bathroom. He wasn't surprised when they ended up on the couch. Sam didn't turn on the lights or the TV, and Malcolm didn't either. Sam sat and pulled Malcolm down next to him so that his boyfriend was practically sitting on his lap. Malcolm wound his arms around Sam’s neck, letting his head fall onto his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “For hurting you. And keeping you awake. I know you have work in the morning, and you're gonna be exhausted.” 

“It was an accident. I’m okay, and I forgive you. And I’m always exhausted, you know that,” Malcolm quipped. 

“Not anymore. Not really,” Sam said. 

“You're right. I sleep pretty well now, thanks to you. So what if I’m a little tired for one day? Beats being chronically sleep-deprived. I’d say it’s a good trade.” He kissed Sam’s neck lightly. Sam hummed and didn't say anything for a while. 

“I don't know what happened,” he whispered eventually. “I haven't had such a vivid nightmare, or flashback, or whatever in- in _years_. Sure they happen, but it’s been so long since I last- last hallucinated or seriously questioned my reality.” Malcolm hummed, tracing patterns on Sam’s chest. 

“Sam, you know that you can't-” he paused, trying to articulate his thoughts. “Recovery isn't linear. We all backslide sometimes. You can't expect yourself to be all better just because you're not there anymore. It hasn't been that long since you got out, not really. You're doing so well, and I'm so proud of you.” Sam sighed. 

“But it’s been _years_ ,” he muttered. Malcolm frowned. 

“Do you expect me to stop having night terrors? Flashbacks? Do you expect my hand to never shake when I’m stressed?” Malcolm asked. He felt Sam tense. 

“What? No of course not,” was his immediate answer. 

“Why? Everything with my father happened when I was ten. I should be over it by now.” 

“No! No, you were traumatized.” Malcolm lifted his head to look Sam in the eye. 

“And you weren't?” Sam opened his mouth but nothing came out. He glanced away. 

“I see your point.” Malcolm knew that Sam didn't want to think about it. He didn't push, letting his head fall back onto Sam’s shoulder. He felt Sam’s fingers carding through his hair. His eyes began to close of their own volition as he relaxed into the touch. 

“Love you,” he managed before consciousness slipped away. 

~~~ 

“Geeze, Bright, rough night?” He heard from behind him. He turned slowly to face Dani. 

“Yeah, but not for me,” he muttered. He took a sip of his coffee. Dani frowned. She hadn't seen Bright drink coffee since- well, since he started dating Sam.

“Is Sam sick?” She asked, mind whirring. “I could make soup for you to take back to him,” she offered. Malcolm smiled. 

“No, it- well, it was a flashback, I guess. He couldn't sleep, so…” he shrugged. Flashback? While she wouldn't dream of prying about this, she was now curious. JT had said that Sam’s background check came back clean, so she never checked for herself. 

“Damn, man, _long_ night?” Malcolm blinked at JT’s suggestive tone. Dani wanted to slam his head into the nearest wall for being so inconsiderate. She rounded on him. 

“Don't be a dick,” she snapped. He took a step back at her tone. 

“Whoa, alright,” he said, putting his hands up. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, Dani,” Malcolm said. “No need to bite his head off.” She grunted, but didn't actually agree with him. It was like her partner had completely forgotten about Malcolm’s sleeping problems. She considered for a moment that he could have. 

Later she cornered him in the break room when she was sure Malcolm was in Gil’s office. 

“Was there anything in Sam’s background check that would cause PTSD?” she asked. JT frowned. 

“Why?” She considered him for a moment. 

“Malcolm told me that Sam had a flashback last night. He stayed up because Sam couldn't sleep.” JT winced. 

“Shit. That’s why you bit my head off.” She rolled her eyes, but there was no heat to it. 

“Yeah. So, anything that could cause that?” JT nodded. 

“He’s ex-military. Marine Corps. He was honorably discharged a few years ago,” he told her. She winced. 

“That makes sense,” she said. She wasn't blind; she saw the way Sam carried himself, how wary he was. She noticed the scars. Looking back, she should have realized it was something like that sooner. 

“Yeah, you don't really fall into the bounty hunting by accident, you know?” She blinked. 

“He’s a bounty hunter?” JT shrugged. 

“He’s got a license for it. From what I hear, he’s pretty good, too.” 

“Huh.” Interesting. The door to Gil’s office opened and the lieutenant stepped out, shutting the door behind him. 

“Where’s bright?” JT asked when Gil drew closer. 

“Napping on my couch,” he muttered, pouring himself more coffee. “He told me what happened.” 

“He must be exhausted,” Dani contemplated. Gil nodded. 

“I just hope that Sam’s doing better,” JT said. Dani hummed thoughtfully. 

“What are you doing?” Gil asked as she pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts. 

“I’m gonna ask Ainsley to check in on him, make sure that he’s alright.” 

And if she showed up at Malcolm’s loft to take him to brunch when he really needed the distraction, well, it wouldn't hurt for him to think she just had good timing.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm still not sure when exactly this is supposed to be in terms of the Supernatural timeline. I'm thinking, like,,,, that time he was with Amelia, except he never hit that dog, so he actually looked for Dean (because I hated that whole thing. So out of character). I also liked his hair during that time, so. Let's just pretend that the timelines match up :)


End file.
